


Will the Circle be Unbroken

by Phantomwriter05



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-13 04:44:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5695243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phantomwriter05/pseuds/Phantomwriter05
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anthology shorts chronicling snippets of the lives of two weights on a cosmic balance whose hate should be stronger than the calling that connects them together in their quietest moments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Man of my Dreams

_The man of my dreams is almost faded now. The one I have created in my mind. The sort of man each woman dreams of in the deepest most secret reaches of her heart. I can almost see him now before me. What would I say to him, if he were really here? "Forgive me, I’ve never known this feeling. I’ve lived without it all my life. Is it any wonder then I fail to recognize you? You brought it to me for the first time." Is there anyway that I can tell you how my life has changed. Anyway at all, to let you know what sweetness you have given me. There is so much to say and I can’t find the words except for these: "I love you"._

_**-Elise McKenna (Somewhere in Time)** _

* * *

 

**The Man of My** ** Dreams **

 

 

There was no rush in the gliding trash heap that flew as smooth and fluid as water. And where she comes from, comparing anything to water is god like status. In a land where the sun shines all day and life is sustained from deep within the earth, Rey never realized how deep the darkness lay within the silence of space. Sitting in the cockpit alone she looks around at the reds and blues flashing on the control panels. She watches the shadows stirring in the corners of the still and sullen nights that last forever between worlds. And somewhere in this line of thoughts she thinks of a face that she can never escape.

She thinks of him.

When she closes her eyes he was still there, in her mind, in her soul. Their connection feeding flashes of a life longing to be forgotten. A lonely girl feeding off another’s memories of a Wookie placing a curly haired boy on his shoulders. She sees the sight of a father sitting a boy in his lap as they cross the ocean of stars, a mother’s voice humming over the crackle of a campfire as sleep takes hold. And in the flashbacks of the rough smiles and roguish sensibilities that mask the angst of a mother and uncle's expectations she finds herself sympathizing, longing, and wanting to comfort this boy. She goes to this boy she sees in her mind. She drops to her knees next to him. A hand glides over his paled face, drawn of color from wearing such a heavy helm to mask the reflection of the loved one’s that make up his own face. The silken softness of the girl’s palms is heavenly to the tormented figure as she takes his face in her hands.

She should hate him, he wants her to hate him, as he hates himself. But she cannot, as Maz’s voice echoes inside her mind, telling her of those who could come back with her help. She thinks of Luke Skywalker, but her mind, her heart, her very soul only shines in this intimate moment when she thinks of this boy. Through her eyes he does not want to come with her, he fights his nature with every step. His nature is one that is not in league with his wants. He isn’t tricking her, lolling her into false sympathy so he might take advantage of her. He is lost, he is tormented, and he is confused. The only thing that feels right is the way they fit together when she takes him in her arms. Head buried to her breast, harsh sobs of frustration and fear moisten her supple chest as his tall frame heaves in her strong arms.

She smells his hair and tells him to stay with her, to not let go of the happy little boy, so brave, and loved. Even as the darkness surrounds them and a voice, old, twisted, dark, and evil howls around them, she holds on tighter begging him not to listen. Then Han dies again, and again, and again. Then the boy looks at up at her, demands that she tell him that it is not his fault. When she cannot a helmeted figure puts her in his vice grip and hates her as the voice gets louder and louder.

When she startles awake R2-D2 informs her that they’re thirty seconds from their destination as a large water planet looms in the cockpit.

The blue reminds her of the color of a boy’s eyes she reaches for every night.

* * *

A roar echoes down the deck of the Star-Destroyer and the ship tremors with the shakes of a power that is beyond any Officer’s comprehension. A squad of Storm Troopers clack their way quickly and quietly past a door where furniture breaks.

Curls of black hair whip in the darkness of the medical quarter as a heavy helmet craters a sleek, metal door. Shirtless and sweaty the lone figure stands in the pieces of the medical droids. His lightsaber was drawn and ignited. In the chaotic red glow, drawing odd shadows on a scarred face, there is fear and indecision in his eyes as he searches the room. 

But she is not there.

He can still smell her. Feel her touch, still engulf himself in the warmth of her tender embrace. At all times he can feel her on the boundary of his mind. She was a beautiful, seductive, luminous being drawing him closer and closer to the light. Memories of a childhood, of parents, friends long past flash through his mind, his hand in hers as he feels the happiness that they bring this lonely girl. Her smiles and joy reminding him of what he was trying to forget, and yet only causing him to misremember why he would abandon such a life for these dark powers he once coveted so much.

The girl clouds everything.

He drops the lightsaber with a clatter and retreats into the shadowed darkness of space around him. The countless fields of stars drive him into a rage. Even in the pure black silence, light pricks in and within the star light he feels her again. Pieces of the droids clatter as he stumbles to his grandfather’s helmet. He takes it in hands and backs away. When he hits the wall he slides down till he sits on the cold sterile floor.

“Don’t let me forget, don’t let me forget, please, let me be!”

He rages and begs, slamming the helmet into his forehead in a zealot’s penance. With each violent hit he tries to absorb the darkness from the helmet to make himself pure once more. Alone, he sobs his torment into the darkness that felt less and less his friend with each passing memory of a beautiful girl’s face.


	2. "There You Are Ben."

In the last explosions of light, the orange sun of the dying day set the clouds a flame in colors of red and violet as the glowing orb fell into the long stretch of blue ocean. A chaotic saber clattered to the rocky ground of the island, its fiery blade burning a clump of green grass. In the last light of the afternoon a figure in black robes fell to his knees, gravel crunching under the dead weight that fell. His dark eyes were dazed and confused. The figure looked as if he had awoken from a long slumber and did not know where he was. Emotion of a deep conflict and defeat were in motion all through the bending energy field that bound the universe together. A narrow chest breathed heavy and his eyes were cast down. He was filled with hatred and anger that bled out of him like rising smoke, blazing away in a burn out. That last fit before surrender. He was untouched and sweating in the crisp evening. He fell forward on his hands and knees.

It was foolish to try and reason with the idea, the inkling, of the power that overwhelmed him. But it was worth a try … no, not a try, never a try. There was no such thing as try. And maybe that was what made it so simple, the idea, the freedom of the two choices before him and committing to it fully. For so much of his life it was always a world, a system, a galaxy of possibilities. He could go anywhere and do anything. And that was what drove him to all the dark places, the dark thoughts, and in the infinity it was when the darkness blotted out all other things that moved there was peace, there was order in the galaxy. All the chaos fell away and he was one with himself and the dark legacy at his feet. And he was content to live his life in this darkness, in the quiet solitude of the systematic conformity that eliminated the chaos of the world … of his life. When everyone was told what to do, what to think, and where to go, there was no need for conflict. For father’s disappearing to race starships in the far reaches of the Outer Rim. There were not more problems than a single woman could handle, and neglect her child to be taken care of by a fussy golden plated butler. And there was no uncle that lived a façade of control over a gaggle of insignificant hangers on and force sensitive potentials. Frustratingly holding him back with the rest of the novice rabble, rather than exploring the power he knew he had running through his veins, through _their_ veins. He saw the chaos of the light, the bogged down, fatness of sentimentality, and the dogma of sensitivity to the weak. All he wished was to eradicate it into something strong and powerful, a universe of diversity and hangers on, condensed into an all-powerful, all solitary, iron fist. He wanted to be the deterrent from an all-encompassing evil.

Snoke wanted all of this for power, for wisdom, for vengeance against a galaxy that was promised to him and taken away by a power hungry apprentice. Kylo Ren was willing to give it to him for a chance to end all the inconsistencies and false hoods of a life of disorder. Under the new rule of the First Order, he would be the protector, the champion that his uncle and mother would never be. He would use his iron fist to protect the galaxy from all the things that tormented him and never again to torment another. He had been so close. He felt that all he needed to do was find him, find his old master. Prove to him that his failures, his lectures, and warnings were an old thinking of a dusty religion. That his reformation had won in the end and in Luke Skywalker’s failures, Kylo Ren had risen to prove the Jedi way wrong, to prove the dead men he talked to false, and to bring order and peace to the galaxy in the great dream of his grandfather. Then in his final step from the precipice of the heaven he reached for …

He found an angel.

He knew her, he had always known her, and she had always been an angel. He had hated the entire rabble in robes, laughing, playing, not knowing of the seriousness of their training. But she knew it was serious, the youngest out of all of them and she was the stand out. And most importantly, she liked him.

She was a beautiful little bundle, found on some distant moon by his mother, father, and uncle on some adventure far away. They brought her to the temple and left her with his uncle. Years later she met him when he landed on Yavin, and from that day followed everywhere he went, even when he didn’t want her too. At all times during the day and night he felt her presence, looking up to find her watching him. When she got hurt, when she was sad, she came to him, not to his uncle, the only father she had ever known. She only came to him. A fight with other students, a saber spar gone too far, and she was the first one there to hold his hand.

 She frustrated him at first, and then she became his only comfort. The little girl became his only ear when no one else would listen to an angry young man filled with a madness of ideas, and the burden of an entire galaxy on his shoulders, placed there by youth. She didn’t have an opinion then, she didn’t have sagely advice that every man sought from a beautiful angel. She only listened and nodded when he needed a nod, and hugged him when she knew he needed a hug. In his time in that god forsaken academy, she was his only friend, his only **_Rey_** of light.  

When he saw her again, she was not the little girl he remembered. She was not the presence he had stowed away in his mind and heart, kept out of sight from the senses of the darker beings in the universe. He had buried her in his mind and heart, buried her so deep, like a murderer would the corpse of a beloved he so madly killed in passion. He’d sooner forget her, than to allow her to torment him, allow her fresh young face to cast the shadow of doubt over his deeds and actions that he had taken to escape the shackles of the Jedi and purge the sickness of their old dogma. But when he saw her again, he could not escape all the old feelings of an impetuous, weak, and foolish young man who’d take naps with her under the cherry blossom tree. They were the old feelings and the new. What had once been a small, spirited, sun flare had grown into a ceaseless, constant, and blinding ethereal creature whose endless beauty had embodied the light itself.

Under his uncle’s mastering he had only saw the restraints, the old rituals, and the tired, rigid spirituality of the Force. He only knew not what to do, what was forbidden, the fear behind each lesson. Placing on the helmet, Kylo Ren had become the embodiment of darkness, never seeing the appeal to the light any longer. His lamentation was only in his lasting attachments to his mother, his father … and a little girl that he searched high and low for after the ramble had been slaughtered.  

But when confronted so many years later by this goddess with the face of love, he was nearly blinded, overtaken by the nagging voice in the back of his mind that he did not belong in this conformity. He had been a being that had once thought himself invincible to the light, now completely enraptured by the sentimentality of memory and the sheer power that the girl possessed.

Nearly driven to madness, he tried to escape the pull of her, doing deeds, too dastardly to imagine for even himself. All in the vein attempts of bravado and need to prove that he was who he always had been. That he was not the weak and foolish boy that no one cared for and listened too. But he could not escape her, could not escape the snowy battlefield in which he saw her in full grace. Nights and mornings he tossed and turned, seeing her face, hearing her voice softly, silkily calling to him in his quietest moments. Slowly, purposefully, weakening him from his resolve, till he could not sleep, could not close his eyes without seeing her. She was inside him, his mind, his body, and spirit, standing at the dark abyss in which nothing escapes offering him a hand out of the shadowy purpose he had set for himself long ago. To frustration, to rant, to surrender, his **_Rey_** of light still followed everywhere he went.  His only resolve then was to do one thing.

And that was to kill her.

There was a chance, a set date, a set time, and set place in which he would face her. Trained by the same master that had failed him, she would meet her doom by the same contrary chaos that he had escaped so many years before. He would slay her, destroy her, snuff out the blight that was crushing the life out of him without fail. He’d suck the light from her lithe body and leave her till the darkness consumed her … so she might join him.

But their clash never happened.

Kylo Ren could not escape her pull, could not escape the memories and the feelings that had once grounded the madness in love and patience that he was once again confronted with in his rage. She knew now, she remembered, the naps, the hugs, the smiles. She’d fight him if that was what he wanted, they’d fight till they’d collapse. If he wanted he could suck the light from her and she’d let him. If he wanted her, he could have her for any purpose that suited. And in return all she wanted was her friend back.

She wanted him back.

A slender shadowed figure paced forward toward the heaving man. Her steps were gentle and quiet, not the stomping bravado of the man in front of her. There was a sense of caution in the air from the hooded figure and the trepidatious beep of the blue and white droid that watched from afar. But the girl’s posture was calm and considering as she slowly circled the figure. A slender hand reaching down and softly running across supple, weather beaten, black cloth on the figures back. Her curious fingers caused the emotional man to halt everything, maybe even time itself.

A frown creased the girl’s brow as she ran her hand up his neck and into his black curls. Softly, familiarly she stroked and twirled them through her slim fingers. Slowly a mischievous smirk touched her lips, an old expression for an old tactile feeling of comfort. Tilting her head she slowly slid her hands down to his pale cheeks and softly lifted the man’s bowed head. Their eyes locked and through them there was a flashpoint of recognition of a past life, of this life, and a thousand others through the bending and binding of millions of other universes.

He looked up at her and a single tear fell, a single tear for a dead father, for a dead rabble, and a dead boy that he knew she’d never find. But she only bit her lip and examined the face anyway. He let her silky palms feel the smoothness and the scratch of his cheeks. She framed his face, a digit running down the scar she had given him. Her eyes narrowed in a glare of one that was looking for the picture through the visual illusion. She slanted his eyes, pulled his cheeks, and rubbed his ears, observing him as a painter or sculptor would a piece of art trapped inside unmolded clay. From afar the hooded man glared in confusion and the droid whistled.

After a long moment she dipped her head toward him. Quickly the black haired man moved his away from her in self-revulsion. But she caught his face and shook her head in a reassurance of his sudden protest of a reward he did not earn, and never will. Tears fell from his eyes at the way she looked in the sunset. It was her grace, the forgiveness that he had no right to be given. She leaned forward again and this time he let their lips touch. Her hand cupped his cheek as she pressed down on him. There was no fire, and there was no electricity of passion. There was only a feeling of righteousness, of puzzle pieces coming together and fitting. Their souls, the torment in one another’s mind, and inability to escape, they were all interlocking chains baring them together. They had only become satiated, calmed, and relieved when lips were locked and arms held the waist. When they became a whole, bonded, did they know the cure for their shared madness.

When they broke apart, she left an intuitive signature of a smaller peck on his lips before she lifted her head back up. In that moment in the aftermath of the fire in his mind being dowsed by a bucket of water, he seemed dazed. In the clearness of the sunset and his mind he looked up at the girl and saw only the figure she had always been. She was somewhere between an ethereal goddess and avenging warrior, surrounded in the bright of the light all around her. Then he knew that there was no escaping, no blackness he could surround himself inside that she could not penetrate, could not find him inside.

He loved her.

Suddenly the girl saw the light in dark eyes and the stricken look on the man’s face as he came to his own awakening. An awakening of a truth she had known since the first time he stepped off the Millennium Falcon all those long years ago.

Suddenly a wide smile of pure love came over Rey’s beautiful face as she spoke in a whisper.

“There you are, Ben.”  

 

   

 

**Author's Note:**

> Have some Reylo ideas that need work-shopping. So what better way to feel my way into this ship than a few free-style warm-ups? 
> 
> "Will the Circle Be Unbroken" - Bioshock Infinite (Choral Version)


End file.
